


D.I.Y

by sciderman



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, ask-spiderpool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29700168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/pseuds/sciderman
Summary: Peter Parker was an intelligent man.A clever boy.A crafty, devilishly clever boy.With a crafty, devilishly clever brain, whenever he remembered to use it.And like a light switch, the gears of his brain clicked on.--Wade has a praise kink. (Or the one where Peter Parker finally says the L-word.)Accompaniment to @ask-spiderpool!
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 639





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of [this post.](https://ask-spiderpool.tumblr.com/post/643955073948499968)

“…said I’m proud of you.”

For a while, Wade could only stare at Peter.

It took a long time. It took a _long time_ to get Peter to look at him like that.

“I – wh –“ Wade floundered, a heat rising to his cheeks.

Wade had liked to think he’d grown past this. Past his school-boy crush on Spider-man – past his unwavering hero-worship and unrelenting vying for approval.

He’d grown.

Peter’s just a guy. He puts on his spandex one web at a time, like everyone else. He leaves the toilet seat up. He snores. He miscalculates where his mouth is and spills coffee down his shirt.

He _never_ does the dishes.

_You’re so pathetic._ A voice rang in his ear.

“Sh – shut up.” Wade finally blurted, a flustered mess.

Wade’s eyes wanted to look anywhere other than Peter’s stupid face. He _wanted_ to look anywhere else, but Peter was smiling at him and _proud_ of him and Wade also wanted to bask in it. He wanted to bask in it like a sunflower in the fucking sunlight.

Peter’s eyebrows quirked. This usually spelt bad news.

“I mean it.” Peter reaffirmed, moving closer. He rest his hands on Wade’s shoulders, anchoring. As if Wade’s head was likely to turn into a balloon and float away. “You’re doing amazing.”

A guttural sound escaped Wade’s throat that wasn’t exactly human.

Peter Parker was an intelligent man.

A clever boy.

A crafty, devilishly clever boy.

With a crafty, devilishly clever brain, whenever he remembered to use it.

And like a light switch, the gears of his brain clicked on.

His long fingers kneaded the muscle of Wade’s shoulders and upper back, thumbs rubbing small circles. It loosened the tension in Wade’s neck just a bit.

“You’re my hero.” Peter said, softly.

Wade breathed out, and his body shook. There was a cacophony of feelings swirling in his chest. Words he’d always wanted to hear. Validation, approval, lov– _fondness._ Ringing in his ears.

And then the utter _embarrassment_ of melting like a puddle underneath them.

**What are we, a puppy?**

_Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?_

“You’re just saying that to get a rise out of me now”, Wade said, in a petulant tone of voice. 

“Well, looks like it’s working”, said Peter, who hadn’t failed to notice the way Wade had crossed his legs tightly, and the way his hips kept shifting on the couch.

Breaking a rule he’d set himself, Peter granted his hands permission to give Wade’s chest an appreciative squeeze before returning them back to Wade’s shoulders. That’s where they’d stay. Truly, Peter deserved an award for this impressive show of restraint.

“Also, no.” Peter spoke again, easy. “I’m not just saying that.”

Wade’s head cocked upwards, back against the couch to look at Peter. The sight made Peter chortle, how wide the eyes of his mask were blown. His mask was somehow so expressive, but in moments like these – close proximity moments – there was always something indeterminable behind it.

For a moment, Peter thought about asking Wade to take it off.

He also knew, with the plan he was presently concocting in his head, asking Wade to take off his mask might be pushing his luck.

“Every day – every day you do something fantastic that reminds me how far you’ve come.”

Wade’s masked eyes bore right into Peter’s – searching. Trying to detect clownery. A hint of irony to Peter’s words. Even if Peter didn’t have heightened senses, Wade’s heartbeat thrummed under his fingers.

“And it’s so fucking difficult to not just, grab you and kiss you. Right in front of everyone.”

Wade wheezed, clearing his throat. His voice was a low rasp. “I knew you were an exhibitionist. You little freak.”

Peter bit his lip.

“It’s so fucking difficult to not kiss you right now”, Peter said, and an audible twinge in his voice made it sound so fucking earnest.

“You can kiss me”, Wade said, probably with the intention of sounding generous, but in his current state it sounded like a plea. “You can kiss me, I don’t have any viruses. And if I do – well, then so do you.”

Peter snickered. His hands worked at Wade’s shoulders, a little rougher. Peter was feeling pent-up too.

“When we’re on missions, I can’t take my eyes off of you”, Peter admitted, bashful. “Your suit – god, it hugs your muscle in all the right ways. Drives me crazy. I just want my hands on you all the fucking time.”

“Nh – never gonna get used to hearing you drop the F-bomb”, Wade mumbled. He was shifting on the couch again.

“Your thighs… your chest… and god, the new suit? The way the blue traces your body?” Peter’s hands itched to trace the lines of blue that ran down the sides of Wade’s suit. The muscle of Wade’s back. Instead, he gave Wade’s shoulders a firm squeeze and groaned frustratedly. “You look so fucking good in blue.”

Wade shifted position again, this time sitting on his hands as his legs remained tightly crossed. Peter suspected Wade was fighting an urge.

“A-alright, Mr Handsy –“ Wade spoke up, audibly impatient at this point. “That’s a whole lot of talk about touching for someone who is decidedly not doing any touching.”

“You got me”, Peter said, in admittance. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss on Wade’s still masked (and very, very warm) cheek. As Peter leant in, he whispered: “You want to be touched?”

Wade swallowed. His masked eyes narrowed to a squint, like he knew he was walking into a trap. Like he was a fly caught in some spider’s web, or something.

“I get it. This is all a ploy – you want me to beg, don’t you?” said Wade, indignantly.

“No,” was Peter’s simple response, “I mean, you can if you want, but it won’t make a difference.”

“…”

“Oh. You motherfucker.”

If Wade wasn’t presently sat on his hands, those hands would be strangling Peter.

Peter could see every delicious ounce of Wade’s frustration in the way he squirmed. His mask scrunched up between his brows as he fired daggers with his glare. Peter was trying so hard to be aloof and sexy, but there was no way to hold back the unbearable smile that beamed on him.

He swallowed the laugher that was threatening it’s way out of him, and cleared his throat.

“You want to be touched?” Peter repeated, putting on a faux deep tone of voice.

He waited for Wade’s body to still. Wade was still pliant and expectant, looking up at Peter like he was waiting for his cue.

“Do it yourself.”

Wade’s eyes fluttered shut with a sigh, and his body deflated on the couch.

“You’re such a little shit. You know that?”

“I know. You tell me every day.” Peter grinned, placing another kiss on Wade’s masked forehead. “You know what I should tell you every day? That you’re fucking gorgeous.”

A breathless laugh ripped out of Wade. He sank into the sofa, letting his body relax and letting his hands rest on his belly.

“I wouldn’t waste your breath, people tell me that _all the time_.”

“You’re gorgeous…” Peter repeated, in a whisper. He leant in close, lips pressed against the fabric of Wade’s mask. “Everything about you. Wouldn’t change anything. Love your smile, any time I get to see it. Your eyes, any time you look at me.”

Swallowing, Wade went silent. Peter realised this isn’t exactly the dirty talk that’ll get things going, but they’re words he’d always wanted Wade to hear. Words he’d always wanted to say.

Peter took in an eyeful of how Wade’s previously tightly coiled body now relaxed on the couch. Wade’s hands resting on hard abdomen. And speaking of hard…

“And your _body_ …” Peter started, and Wade sighed like he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Wade Jr. was at full attention, and he’d given up on his attempts to hide it. Wade’s thighs sat apart on the couch, shaking with nervous energy. Wade’s hands were sedentary though, and Peter just wouldn’t stand for that.

“I love your body”, Peter whispered, “Love everything you _do_ with your body. Love the frankly ridiculous things you can do with your hips in combat.” Peter paused. “…Love the frankly ridiculous things you can do with your hips in other contexts, too.”

“It’s all the pilates”, Wade said, throwing it away, but Peter noticed Wade’s hands absentmindedly drift further in the southernly direction.

“Your legs. God, I want them slung around my shoulders all the time. I’ve wanted to sink my teeth into those thighs since the first time I ever saw you.” It was true. At the time Peter didn’t quite know where to file away those strange thoughts. “Thighs like a tree.” He echoed the words he’d said that day, when he’d first met Deadpool.

Wade snickered, “I knew it.” He really didn’t. He had no idea. “I was a recurring fixture of your teenage fantasies, wasn’t I? Dirty, dirty boy.”

Wade was deflecting just how the revelation that maybe, _maybe_ Peter’s had it bad for him for a lot longer than he’d let on was making him feel. Those were feelings he’d address later. Maybe. Maybe never.

Feelings, what are those?

“I’ve dreamt about you a _lot_ , Wade. Incase my being a constantly sexually agitated mess around you wasn’t giveaway enough.” Peter looked at Wade, with a serious set to his brow. “Made it so hard for me, too –”

“I bet.”

“Quiet, you.” Peter consciously shifted his position behind the couch because _yeah._

He needed to speed things along. 

“You _sashay_ around the house with nothing but an apron on. You wear clothes one size too small, like, all the time. You were driving me crazy. The sight of your skin…“

Wade held his breath.

“Any little sliver of skin – I just wanted to kiss it. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to make you feel amazing.”

Wade let go of the breath, shaky. Inhibitions be damned, Wade was touching himself. Peter had earned a ticket to the show.

_You do – you make me feel amazing,_ Wade wanted to say. He bit down the urge and closed his eyes, letting his hips rock with the slow rhythm he was setting.

Peter had half expected this not to work. He’d half expected Wade to throw a tantrum (as he often does), and get his way (as he _often_ does). In a sexual context, however, Peter noticed Wade was a lot more inclined to do as he’s told.

Logging that one for later, Peter thought.

Wade looked up at Peter, face hot and breath sharp. Eyes locked on his, waiting on his word.

Peter wondered if he could’ve ever gotten Wade to do something like this without the comfort of his mask. Completely exposed. All of Wade’s glorious flustered facial expressions bare for Peter to enjoy. The furrow of Wade’s mock-appalled brow when Peter drops an F-bomb. Wade’s mouth, agape, catching his breath, waiting to be kissed.

Inhibitions be damned, Peter was touching himself too. He knocked foreheads with Wade. It was intimate, and pleasant, but _so_ not enough.

“Your _mouth_ ,” Peter started again, breathless. “Famous for a reason, and I’m the one who gets to kiss it.”

“Usually”, Wade quipped, razor-quick.

“Usually.” Peter stifled a groan. It’s so _hard_ to make conversation when you’re so _hard._ “Wanted to kiss that mouth for so fucking long. That mouth, any time I see it under your mask when we ate. That mouth that sang Dolly songs off-key in the shower. That mouth that called my hair dumb –“

“It is dumb.”

“ _Still_ calls my hair dumb, and I _still_ love that mouth.”

“C-careful, Pete”, Wade said, shaky but still going. “You’re throwing the L-word around a lot, and we’re inching into dangerous territory.”

Peter was breathless, his chest was on fire, and his brain-to-mouth filter had long since jumped out of the window.

“What’s wrong with the L-word? Why _can’t_ I say the L-word? I _so_ want to say the L-word.”

“You’ll kill my boner.” Wade threatened. All the while, he was still touching himself.

“Are you close?” Peter asked, innocently. It was so fucking cute, Wade wanted to slap him. 

“I’m so close, don’t you ruin this for me Peter –“

Peter made no promises.

“Wish I was seeing your face right now. Wish I was kissing you right now. You’re so amazing, Wade. You’re amazing, and _spectacular_ and _–“_

“ _Uncanny…_ ” _,_ Wade contributed mindlessly, completely elsewhere. His hips were frantic, and his head was thrown back. He let his eyes shut again, just taking in Peter’s voice, and his words, and this _feeling_ , and the heat that was building up to nearly unbearable in his stomach. “P-peter –“

“I love you.”

“You motherf – ”

Wade came, cussing and groaning. His back arched, glorious abdomen shifting under red spandex. Boots dug into the couch, which, to Peter’s dismay, had sustained a bit of wear and tear over the years. But it was a lucky couch, and Peter could never, not for all the money in the world, throw it out.

Wade sank back, limp and sated, all of the tension bleeding out of his body. For a while he just stared at the ceiling, taking in a breath before he could look Peter in the eye.

“Foul play”, Wade said. “How do you sleep at night?”

“Like a baby”, Peter replied, completely smug.

After a moment, Wade was off of the couch. His motion was furious, like he was out for revenge. He yanked off his mask and grabbed Peter by the shirt, locking him into a kiss. Peter couldn’t do much but grunt in surprise.

When the surprise wore off, Peter hummed his appreciation, enjoying the familiar taste of Wade. Now that his hands were on him, they had some indecision on where they wanted to touch the most. Grappling with his chest, his shoulders, his arms, eventually settling comfortably on his hips.

The kiss was hungry, not like their more recent kisses. It reminded Peter of the first kisses they’d shared. The ones where it had been _all_ they’d wanted for _years,_ and they never knew if it would ever happen.

Thank _god_ it happened. 

“Looks”, Wade mumbled in Peter’s ear when the kiss parted, “like you also have a problem that needs attending to.”

Peter breathed out, eyes shut as he revelled in the rumble of Wade’s voice. It made him stupid. Made him stupid in the brain. Not that Peter ever needed help with that.

“Y-yeah”, Peter responded, thighs wobbling underneath him.

“Well”, Wade rasped, drawing Peter’s earlobe between his teeth.

Peter shivered, every hair on his neck standing on end. It felt something like spider-sense. _But better_ , Peter thought.

“ _Do it yourself._ ”

Peter buried his face into the crook of Wade’s neck, cursing.

“With all those years of pining after me, I’m sure you’re an expert – “

“On second thought I hate your mouth.” Peter said. “I want it sewn shut immediately.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...but wait, there's more!

“On second thought I hate your mouth.” Peter said. “I want it sewn shut immediately.” 

“Mm, you and I both know you don’t mean that, baby boy”, Wade said softly into Peter’s ear again, rough and rasped. “You love this mouth.” 

Peter couldn’t help the soft whine that came out of him. Just like he couldn’t help the shivers that Wade’s voice sent through his spine. 

“–mh – maybe a zipper. So I can zip it shut when you say stupid things”, suggested Peter. “I think I’d like that.”

“Mhm. I do see the appeal in that”, Wade whispered, nibbling gently at Peter’s ear. “But 95% of what I say is stupid.” 

“I think your math is off.” 

“99% of what I say is stupid.” 

“Try again.” 

“…100% of w –“ 

Peter kissed Wade again. A gentle press, just seeking warmth. His hands framed Wade’s face like something precious. Something so, so beloved. 

Wade could only stare at Peter when he pulled away, with wide, warm eyes. In a twist of irony, articulating his feelings into words was something Wade struggled with. But his face? Nowhere to hide. 

Wade cleared his throat, shaking himself out of the daze he was in. 

“So,” tone shifting to talk business. “…Because I’m feeling so generous, you’re allowed to kiss me.” 

“Oh? I’m allowed?” Peter said, “How charitable of you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. And you’re even allowed to get a little handsy. You know. As an anchor. One hand on your man, one hand on your boys –“ 

“Thoughtful.” Peter murmured. He buried his grin in Wade’s neck so he couldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing it. But Wade felt it against his skin, and it willed him on. 

“Yup”, Wade said plainly, “And me, well. I get to watch. And not touch. I do not get to touchy.” 

Wade leant back, eyeing Peter up and down. All lithe muscle and tight spandex hugging every angle. Wade had never so wanted to _be_ a spandex suit. 

Wade groaned, realising that this might be a little more difficult than he thought. 

One thing Peter had oodles of that Wade simply didn’t? Restraint. 

“…Ding!” Wade said aloud, as though a lightbulb appeared above his head. His hand reached for one of Peter’s, moving Peter’s two middle fingers into the centre of his palm. 

Peter was perplexed but didn’t put up any resistance. “…Okay…?” 

Wade turned away from Peter, folding his arms behind his back. With one hand he managed to squeeze Peter’s hand firmly enough that it triggered Peter’s web shooter, binding Wade up nice and neat. 

“There!” Wade waddled back to a front facing position, looking proud of himself. 

Peter looked at him in disbelief.

“Has anyone told you… you’re a moron?” Peter said, with the utmost fondness. 

“Every day, Peter.” Wade responded. “It’s a compliment.” 

Peter leant into Wade, hands tugging him in closer by the belt. “No self-control, huh?” 

“Hey, you know me and my wandering hands”, Wade chuckled, “Momma always did say they’d get me into trouble som’day.” 

“Well, Wilson”, Peter said, a hand resting gently on Wade’s chest, “…momma was right. Today is that day.” 

With a well-controlled shove, Wade was sent onto his back, wriggling atop of his bound arms. 

“Foul! Foul man!” Wade sounded scandalised. “Momma _warned_ me about spiders like you!” 

“When will you _ever_ learn?” Peter quipped, revelling in this. He tossed his hair, and then on forearms leant over Wade. 

“Never,” Wade whispered, like it was a promise. “I’m incapable. Minor birth defect.” 

Their lips met again, warm and hungry, and Wade was cursing the fact that he couldn’t pull Peter closer. Couldn’t run his fingers through Peter’s stupid hair. Couldn’t let his evil tendencies take over and yank Peter’s stupid hair back, so he could see Peter’s stupid face, and his stupid, open, kiss-stained lips. 

**You did this to _yourself_ , genius. **

“It made sense at the time…” Wade grumbled into the kiss. 

Wade was delighted to notice that Peter’s hands were on himself again, honouring their arrangement.

“Talk to me”, Peter said, breathlessly. Desperately. “Tell me anything. I love your voice.” 

Wade swallowed.

Motherfucker, what a time to be drawing a blank. 

Here Peter was, bowed on top of him. Face flush and red, rocking gently, chasing his pleasure. _Begging_ for Wade to say something, _anything_ to him. 

And Wade had swallowed his own tongue. 

_“Wade.”_ Peter pleaded. 

“According”, Wade piped up in a deep, breathy tone, right into Peter’s ear, “to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly…” 

“You’re fucking kidding me right now.” 

Wade continued, undiscouraged. He overplayed a moan as he tugged at Peter’s earlobe with his teeth. “It’s wings are too small to get it’s fat little body off the ground…” 

The dichotomy was sending Peter’s head spinning.

“Wade. I _will_ kill you.” 

“Sorry…” Wade whispered, softly. 

Wade loved teasing Peter. He loved seeing that serious set to Peter’s brow. That crease above Peter’s nose. The way Peter’s lips pouted slightly. 

Something in Wade knew, though, that he was pushing his luck. 

Peter was so willing to let all of his feelings erupt to the surface after keeping them held back for _so_ long. Somehow, after all those years of repression, Peter Parker had become a geyser of emotions. Waves upon waves of feeling constantly poured out of the man. 

And Wade, well, Wade was like a crumbling cliffside, being chipped away by the tide. 

Wade knew he couldn’t keep doing this to Peter. Keep letting Peter put his heart out, and keep throwing it back into Peter’s face because he couldn’t handle a shred of fucking emotional sincerity. 

**Give him something, dude. Look at him. Look at those soft, Tobey Maguire doe-eyes…**

_Give him a sliver of honesty, for once in your fucking life._

**Open your heart. We know you have one.**

“P-pete, I –“ Wade croaked. He looked up at Peter, who, Wade noticed with some disappointment, had stopped touching himself. 

_Probably something to do with the fucking recital of the Bee Movie script._

Wade gestured with his head for Peter to lean in closer. Peter, more than a little frustrated, obliged. 

“M’sorry, Pete…” Wade whispered sincerely, “…sorry I’m so bad at emotions…” 

He kissed Peter’s ear, gaining a little satisfaction when he could hear the younger man’s breath hitch. 

He kept going. 

“…sorry I couldn’t say the things you needed to hear… you always say what I wanna hear… you fucking melt my heart, Pete.” 

Peter was at a loss. 

Peter’s brain was swimming and his heart was swelling. He leant back to look at Wade. Stupid mouth open. Stupid kiss-stained lips. Big, brown eyes blown. 

“I like those words.” Peter eventually said, grinning. “Say more.” 

“Only if you hold up your end of the bargain, mister”, Wade sassed. “All hands on deck. Or, all hands on _dick_ , rather.” 

“Those words are bad.” Peter frowned. 

Peter obliged, though, one hand bracketing Wade’s head, and one hand bringing himself back to attention. 

His face was a breath apart from Wade’s, and Wade had the privilege of getting to see Peter unravel in all it’s unmasked glory. Provided he could get him there, of course. 

“Love seeing you like this,” Wade started again, in a low, low voice. “Love that I’m the one who gets to see you like this. Peter Parker… ruffled feathers… never cracks a smile… total _nerd_ …” 

“Hey.” Peter bit his lip, “I said _nice_ things about you.” 

“It’s a term of _endearment_ ,” Wade responded, leaning up to bite at Peter’s bottom lip too, “Don’t interrupt, I’m flowing.” 

Peter sighed. 

“As I was saying, _total_ nerd…” he whispered, close to Peter’s cheek, “…and I get to see him like this. Foul-mouthed. Perpetually horny. Hair all dishevelled, and that _sweet_ little fussy Queens accent when he’s bossing me around and bending me over the kitchen table.” 

“We’ve never done it on the kitchen table.” 

“It’s unhygienic. But it’s the thought that counts.” 

Peter snorted, but it was plain to see that the imagery Wade was conjuring had its impact. 

In fact, Peter’s view right now was definitely helping. Wade’s back forced into an arch as he squirmed over his bound arms. It was difficult for him to find a comfortable position, so his muscles kept shifting under his suit. Peter also had the sneaking suspicion that Wade was hard again. 

Peter ground his hips downwards as he rocked, and, _eeyyup._

_Pros and cons of a lover with a healing factor,_ Peter thought. 

“I’d love to bend you over the kitchen table,” Peter mumbled, “Any table. We’ll disinfect it afterwards.” 

“Mmm, love it when you talk dirty and clean to me simultaneously”, Wade crooned, “...I also love it when you bend me over... Would _love_ for you to be bending me over right now, but I’ve committed to this and I have to see it through to the end.” 

“Your loss”, said Peter. 

Wade cursed himself, but he’d always been something of a self-saboteur. It was something he was famous for. Besides, getting to see the funny little look of determination Peter had on his face as he jerked himself off was almost enough to make up for it. Almost.

He wondered if this is what Peter looked like while he was alone, locked in his room, thinking of Wade. Wondering what it would be like to taste Wade’s skin. Wondering what it would be like to finally hear Wade moaning out his name.

Now, Peter was consistently rolling his hips to meet Wade’s, and this was _not_ in their arrangement.

**It’s not _not_ in our arrangement either, though.**

Wade groaned, “More foul play”, he accused. “I don’t know how you’ve convinced anyone that you’re a hero.”

“You said I could touch”, Peter stated in defence. “I didn’t read the fine print.”

“You never do,” Wade grumbled. Wade’s hips, however, did not grumble. They were appreciative for every bit of delicious friction Peter granted them.

“Why do we never take off the suits?” Peter asked in innocence. At this point, Peter was upright, looking down at Wade, hand on his joystick, and practically riding Wade despite the suits being in the way.

_Did the narrator just… use the word ‘joystick’?_

“The joys of dry-humping are universal, Peter”, was Wade’s response.

“Uh-huh”, Peter said, raising an eyebrow. He started removing the top half of his suit, but continued his rocking motion against Wade with all the skill of a professional lap dancer.

Wade couldn’t fucking believe this, Spider-man was always out-doing him at every fucking turn.

“Foul!” Wade shouted, “Foul! Foul!”

Peter tossed the spandex shirt across the room, beautiful slender hips gyrating, perfectly toned stomach all on display.

Wade’s hands twitched _desperately_ to touch. He wanted to lick Peter! God, he wanted to run his hands all over him, and lick him like a – 

“Woah! Settle down!” Peter said in surprise. He brought both hands to Wade’s chest, applying gentle pressure.

“Uh. How much of that did I say aloud?”

“You’re bucking like a bronco, Wade.”

Wade sank in embarrassment. This was meant to be _his_ revenge _,_ how could it have all backfired so badly?

_Maybe because you tied yourself up, brainiac._

“Evil, evil man”, Wade whimpered, looking up at pristine, _perfect_ skin and muscle. He wriggled against his binds. “You’re torturing me.”

Peter sighed. He decided to make a show of it, bringing his hands into his hair, stretching out his long, lithe, beautiful body as he rocked.

“You do this on purpose, Wade. You _know_ you do.” Peter said, “You love it. So, tell me.”

“Nff”, Wade fussed, continuing to desperately wriggle and writhe on the floor. 

“Tell me how much you love it.” Peter breathed out, closing his eyes, resuming his rhythm on himself. “Tell me –“

“You’re right, I fucking love it, Peter.” Wade’s voice dropped, making Peter shiver.

The clatter of a small object hitting the wooden floor could be heard.

Peter opened his eyes to see Wade sitting upright, hands immediately travelling up Peter’s sides.

In the corner of his vision, Peter could see the discarded utility knife Wade had used to slice through his binds.

_“Sneaky_ son of a – “

Wade swallowed Peter’s words up with his mouth.

Peter moaned into the kiss, unabashedly. He was already far gone, and he wanted Wade’s touch. Both of Peter’s hands moved to pull Wade closer to him, but Wade grabbed his hands and scolded him.

“No touchy.” Wade’s deep, uncharacteristically authoritative tone travelled directly from Peter’s ears to the pit of his belly. “New rules. Since you like playing so dirty.”

Peter breathed out, unable to help the shudder in his breath.

“Thought you’d like it dirty”, Peter whispered, echoing words he’d said before.

Truth is, Wade and Peter were always fighting. Fighting to out-do each other, fighting over the TV remote… it was a constant push-and-pull.

_Domestic bliss? Domestic pissing contest, more like._

Peter kind of loved that.

Wade’s mouth was on Peter’s again. Punishment for talking back. One of Wade’s hands was firmly in Peter’s hair, (Peter noted, one of it’s favourite places to be), the other was nudging Peter back to the matter at hand.

“Touch yourself”, Wade commanded. His low, rumbling tone reverberating in Peter’s head.

Peter’s comeback was completely incoherent, head knocking against Wade’s as he did as he was told.

“I love that I get to see you like this, Pete…” Wade rasped, “…that there’s a switch to turn off that big brain of yours, and I’m the privileged one that gets ta’ know’a’bout it…” he tugged on Peter’s hair, pressing kisses to the wall-crawler’s throat.

“Hah – “ was Peter’s eloquent reply.

“What supervillain wouldn’t want to know all about it? The one sure-fire way to defeat Spider-man?” Wade mumbled against Peter’s ear.

_“God –“_ Peter muttered, dumbly. Even his hip movements had become dis-coordinated. He was swimming in his own head, brains like pudding.

“Keep going, Pete…”, Wade coaxed, “…you’re so fucking pretty like this, Pete.”

Peter felt red hot and embarrassed all over, and, if he was in his right mind, he would have something to say about being called _pretty_. But his brain was gone and Wade could see that, all bare on his face.

Apart from a fistful of hair that kept Peter’s face perfectly in Wade’s view, he didn’t lay a finger on Peter, leaving his pleasure all up to him.

Wade was eating up the sight. The way Peter just didn’t know where to look. The way his chest rose and fell with his breath. The drops of sweat and saliva that soaked Peter’s neck.

“W-wade – I –“

“…So fucking pretty…” Wade repeated, enamoured.

The way Wade’s eyes devoured Peter. The feeling of mild embarrassment scorching Peter’s body, inside and out. The way Wade’s deep, hoarse voice reverberated inside Peter’s head. It all served to completely short-out Peter’s brain.

Peter bit down the sound that was rising from him as his whole body shuddered with release.

He wished he could bury his face into Wade, grab hold of him. But Wade held him right there to be viewed and enjoyed.

“ _Amazing_ ,” Wade said, in awe.

Peter shivered.

“…wade…” 

The only word left that he had rattling in his empty brain as he gazed at Wade, half-lidded and spent. 

Wade… Wade just didn’t know how he gathered enough good karma in his life to deserve something like this.

He pulled his hand out of Peter’s hair and wrapped both arms around the hero, bringing him close. Peter melted into the embrace, every nerve in his typically tense body feeling sated.

“You did amazing, Pete,” Wade whispered, nuzzling into Peter’s hair. He squeezed him tight. “M'proud of you.”

"...hm?" murmured Peter, completely off-world. 

"...said _I'm proud of you._ " 

“Mm? Wh –” Peter responded, dizzily. “Sh-shut up.”


End file.
